Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Italy and from Cairo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1977.
I was there at the first Human League show in Sheffield.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Shanghai.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967 at the first Rodriguez practice in a loft in Detroit.
I was working on the clarinet sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Manfred Mann's Earth Band to the electroclash kids.
I played it at the Troubador.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Red Krayola. All the underground hits.
All Radio Birdman tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Pagans record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a sitar and a linndrum and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Mark Hollis record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Tim Buckley,
The Angels of Light,
the Human League,
Marmalade,
Tubeway Army,
Ohio Players,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Soulsonic Force,
OOIOO,
The Remains,
Rites of Spring,
Todd Terry,
Brothers Johnson,
the Soft Cell,
Pharoah Sanders,
Crispian St. Peters,
The Leaves,
Goldenarms,
The J.B.'s,
EPMD,
Amon Düül II,
Kool Moe Dee,
The Misunderstood,
Leonard Cohen,
Gang Gang Dance,
Gregory Isaacs,
Eric B and Rakim,
Country Joe & The Fish,
Steve Hackett,
Urselle,
Barrington Levy,
Connie Case,
Chrome,
Oblivians,
Morten Harket,
Graham Central Station,
Pierre Henry,
Hot Snakes,
The Fortunes,
The New Christs,
Charles Mingus,
Dawn Penn,
Shuggie Otis,
Maurizio,
The Fugs,
Wasted Youth,
Derrick May,
The Doobie Brothers,
Ultra Naté,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Rapeman,
Robert Hood,
The Dave Clark Five,
Sad Lovers and Giants,
Smog,
The Durutti Column,
the Association,
Country Teasers,
Joey Negro,
The Gap Band,
Girls At Our Best!,
Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX, Siglo XX.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.